– 2 –
No. This can’t be my Gordey.
Nonsense. Gossip. Ritka imagined something.
I wrap my arms around myself. Gordey is the embodiment of reliability, my rock. A military man with an impeccable reputation. He’s never given me any reason to doubt him. Never.
Yes, we’ve had some difficulties lately, but… it’s temporary. Everyone goes through hard times.
The phone vibrates again. Let it be promotions, newsletters, news. Anything but Rita’s gossip.
The vibration repeats. A short, insistent “zzz.” The messaging app opens automatically.
There is only one word, written by Ritka in capital letters: “SEE!”
And underneath it is a photograph.
I don’t need to zoom in to recognize my husband. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a perfectly tailored coat. This is exactly what he was wearing when he left the house this morning.
He’s standing at the entrance to a building I’d recognize among a thousand. Our perinatal center, the very one where Rita works.
The photo was taken from a distance and is a little blurry, but the angle, apparently taken furtively from a window, is unmistakable. That’s my husband, Gordey…
He stands there, frowning, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze directed toward the car. But that’s not the worst part. He holds a pink bundle in his hands, clutching it to his broad chest.
A bright, soft pink blanket roll.
The heart, which just a second ago was beating anxiously and frequently, suddenly contracts sharply, turning into a cold, leaden lump.
It sinks somewhere down, leaving an icy emptiness in my chest and a sharp, searing pain that echoes in my solar plexus. The world is floating. A terrible disaster has come to our home…
